“Athena. Jasper’s milk cow. Tom shot once to kill the snake and then once to put her down.”

Tears spill out of the corners of my eyes, and I scrub at them with the back of my hand. It’s too much. Everything that could go wrong since I woke up this morning has gone wrong. And now sweet Athena, with her soft brown eyes and fine lady lashes.

“Grab some dinner, Lee,” Jefferson says. “You’ll feel better after you get something to eat.”

“I’m going back out. I won’t let today end this way.”

“Lee—”

“I won’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Everyone is staring at me. “I’ll welcome anyone who wants to help,” I call out.

No one volunteers.

Frank says, “You go back out there in the dark, you’re asking to get yourself killed. The Indians’ll put an arrow through you. You won’t even hear it coming.”

I look him dead in the eye. “A brave man would offer to come with me.”

“I forbid it. You ain’t going out there.”

“Try to stop me.” I whirl and head toward Peony.

“If you’re not back in the morning, don’t bother!” he shouts after me. “We’ll leave without you.”

My hands are shaking and my eyes are blurry with tears that won’t fall. Footsteps pound after me. I brace myself, but it’s Jeff.

“Lee?”

“Don’t you start,” I snap. “And don’t you dare try to change my mind.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Oh.”

I unhitch Peony. She nips at my arm, but her teeth don’t touch me, so I know she’s not serious. I stroke her neck by way of apology, but her skin twitches under my palm. She needs a good rubdown. I’ve worked her hard all day.

“Thanks,” I say softly. To her and to Jefferson.

“You’re a McCauley, right? Lee McCauley. That makes us family.”

I choke out a laugh, and then the tears dribble down my cheeks and I’m rubbing my sleeve across my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jefferson Kingfisher.”

“I knew you’d throw that back at me,” he says.

“Too bad you can’t pick your family.” It’s what Daddy always said about his mother-in-law, my Boston grandma who refused to return my mama’s letters after she ran away to Georgia.

“Maybe you can.”

I stare at him, not sure what to say. I’d pick him for family, for sure and certain, if I could.

“I’ll get the sorrel mare and the dogs,” he says.

The contents of the Joyners’ wagon are stacked outside. I’m quiet as a mouse as I get some feed for Peony and refill my canteen. But the canvas flap whips open, revealing a red-eyed Mrs. Joyner.

“Just restocking,” I say. “Then Jeff and I are going back out.”